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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830524">Father Figure</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelmonsoon/pseuds/parallelmonsoon'>parallelmonsoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Father Figure Verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Janus justifying some things, Remus adjacent body horror, Sympathetic Janus, induced amnesia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:28:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelmonsoon/pseuds/parallelmonsoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil gives Patton a Father's Day Gift in the form of a pun.  </p><p>Janus suffers and remembers</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Father Figure Verse [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Father Figure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(Warnings for shape shifting body horror with a kid Remus.  Oh, and kid Virgil is some sort of cutie-pie spider abomination for no particular reason.  Using my head canon that the sides were very different and more flexible when Thomas was young.)</p><p>(Not related to any of my other works, though may share certain head canon similarities)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Janus cracked a yawn, wiggling his jaw a bit to settle the joint when it threatened to dislocate. He took a sip of sweet, caffeinated salvation and watched the battle between Logan and Roman for the rest of the pot unfold with blearily disinterest.</p><p>Across the room Virgil squirmed shy and passed Patton a chunky cat-shaped mug and an envelope. “Happy Father's Day.” A blush and a shifty look about before he muttered, all in a rush “...Daddy Poppins.”</p><p>Patton's squeal hit a decibel that an operatic mouse would have envied. He tackled Virgil with force enough to send him careening back into the table. The impact sloshed hot coffee across Janus' wrist; he scarcely felt the burn.</p><p>Janus stood.</p><p>Too abrupt, the screech of his chair drawing far too much attention. Logan and Roman both turned, though not so far that they lost line of sight on the pot and each other. When Roman made a play Logan smacked him on the wrist with a wooden stirrer with surprising dexterity, drawing a yelp and a pout.</p><p>“...Janus?” Patton, of course. Arm draped over Virgil's shoulders, and Virgil was fussing still, making a show of trying to wiggle free even as he leaned into it. “Everything okay, bud?”</p><p>“<em>Fuck you,”</em> Janus thought, and that wasn't kind or remotely fair. None of this was Patton's fault. You can't steal what is freely given, after all.</p><p>“Apologies.” A mistake, to look at Virgil. He returned Janus' gaze with narrow-eyed suspicion and flashed his fangs. Janus dipped his chin in submission to the warning and forced a tight-lipped smile that hid his own. “I had forgotten I have a prior engagement. Do enjoy your morning.”</p><p>Cowardice? Perhaps, but then Janus had never claimed bravery. He bypassed his room in favor of the deep subconscious and fell immediately to pacing, watching the mist swirl around his feet.</p><p>He'd done the right thing. A month of walking openly among the so-called Lights, and he was more convinced of that then ever. Virgil...he had grown so much. Had settled finally, secure in his own skin.</p><p><br/>
Worth it, then. Even this moment and the bitter, bitter pain in Janus' chest...worth it. But Janus was selfish enough to allow himself to wallow, if only for a day. Because it had <b>hurt</b>, damn it. He was allowed that, surely? Allowed to admit that watching his son call another side father had torn something wide. He would take the day to let himself bleed, and tomorrow would hide the wounds behind a swagger and a smirk.</p><p>But if he was giving himself permission to wallow...Janus meant to do it right. It would be a risk, but a minor one, he thought. Patton was sure to spend the day with Virgil and the others. Cake and presents and accolades, and wasn't that just lovely?</p><p>Still, he was careful as he slipped into Patton's room. Excuse ready on his tongue (just wanted to borrow a book, if dear Patton wouldn't mind?), but the room was dark and still, the golden glow of its walls dulled to a shimmer.</p><p>Janus didn't waste time exploring. Instead he closed his eyes, thought of what he sought, and simply <b>reached</b>.</p><p>...his hand landed on something that crinkled. Janus opened his eyes and cradled the glitter-crusted monstrosity of a card close.</p><p>'<em>Please</em>,' he told the room, and the room listened.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Just a scrap of a memory. A bit of indulgence.</p><p>Virgil...just a scuttling little thing, all high-jointed legs and ever-watchful eyes. Remus even less controlled back then, a boy one moment and a loose collection of squirming hooks and spines the next. Jostling one another as they both tried to be the one to present the gift, the card threatening to rip between them.</p><p>“What's this?” Janus feigned surprise (they'd crafted it right there in the living room, and the table was going to be an *absolute pleasure* to clean later.) “For me?”</p><p>It wasn't hard to guess who had contributed what. The writing was Virgil...a messy, almost indecipherable scrawl that got tighter and more rushed as it went. The blood and little globs of scab were Remus, of course, and he'd even taken the time to smear them into a vague heart-shaped, sweet boy.</p><p>“Do you like it?” Such a deep, deep voice for such a small shadow. Janus realized he'd spent too long admiring the card when Virgil bobbed side to side, the sharp stiletto tips of his legs tip-tapping against the wall.</p><p>“I *loathe* it,” Janus assured them with a wink. He held out an arm and let Virgil clamber up to his shoulder, hiding his grimace at the pinpricks he left along the way. It was a bit harder to gather up Remus (he was being a rubber boy, now, floppy and squeaky and boneless), but he managed. “Thank you, boys.”</p><p>Spindly legs wound around his throat. Remus shifted with a shudder, becoming a buzz of static that twined around them. “Hate you, papa,” he droned in his best imitation of Janus' own polished tone. Virgil giggled and echoed it, rubbing his bristly little face against Janus' cheek.</p><p>“Oh, you do, do you?” Janus gave them both a toss onto the couch. “Well, if you hate me already...” He crept closer, hands held high and fingers wiggling. “...then there's no reason not to do...THIS!”</p><p>The boys shrieked when Janus went on the attack. Tickling whatever he could reach, and he kept at it until Virgil tapped out and Remus was boy-shaped and breathless. “Still hate me?” he asked as he flopped down between them. He'd barely gotten settled before Virgil was in his lap, the eyes lining his back already blinking heavy-lidded. Naptime, Janus thought fondly.</p><p>“Hate you lots,” Virgil assured through a yawn.</p><p>“Hate you <b>most</b>,” Remus mumbled as he shoved his way under Janus' arm. He was sucking on his fingers, drawing them skinny and sharp as a candy cane. Janus found it disturbing enough to tug them gently free, bopping Remus gently on the nose when he fussed. It only took a moment for them to squirm themselves comfy and drift off.</p><p>“Oh, good” Janus mumbled as he tipped his own head back against the cushion, “Because I despise you both. Positively abhor you, you rotten little cretins.”</p><p>Silence, save for Remus' chainsaw snores and Virgil's low rumbling. Janus glanced at the card on the coffee table and hugged them a little closer.</p><p>“...love you, boys.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>Janus pulled free of the memory with an in-drawn gasp that made his nonexistent lungs burn. Sweet torture, to go back that far. Virgil had been fierce and a little feral, then, more apt to chose fight then flight. Thomas, like most small children, had been reckless, heedless of his frailty and all-too-willing to throw himself down the basement steps on a lark. How any human survived to adulthood was a mystery to Janus.</p><p>But Thomas had grown, as children will, and Virgil had learned just how scary the world could be. He'd stayed fierce...not because he didn't know the dangers, but because he needed to be scarier then they were.</p><p>It had been no one's fault. They simply were what they were, and there had been no changing that. With maturity came darker fantasies, and Remus began to make Virgil uneasy. The gossip and backstabbing of middle school made him lose his taste for Janus' machinations. He lost his trust in them both, if not his affection.</p><p>...and that had been the entirety of the problem.</p><p>Taking the memories had never been Janus' first choice. He could not simply suggest Virgil would be better off elsewhere...by that point, Virgil had convinced himself that taking anything Janus said at face value was sure to lead to disaster. Nor could he insist that Virgil <b>stay </b><span>in hopes he would do the opposite. Paranoid as he was, Virgil was loyal to a fault. He might not have trusted them or even much liked them, but they were his family. </span></p><p>
  <span>Until they weren't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course Janus could not take the memories from Virgil alone. It simply did not work that way. To save one of his boys meant losing both, but how could he do otherwise? Virgil was suffering, down there in the dark. Second guessing and tangling himself up in circles and ever watchful for a betrayal that was never going to come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The funny thing about memory is that it's far from infallible to begin with. Take away the cuddles and playful 'I hates yous' and the mind fills in the gaps. For Remus, Janus became an acquaintance at best. He might seek him out for a game or two (often to Janus' distress), but the closeness they had shared was gone. For Virgil...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered the fear that had consumed him in those days, and he remembered that Janus rarely spoke simply. The patchwork he conjured turned Janus from protector to villain, and when he left he never looked back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Janus? He had been denied the luxury of ignorance. He could make others forget, but never himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just had to live with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood now, still holding the card and not blinking because he wasn't crying. Not a tear. He'd gotten his wallowing out of his system, and now it was time to get on with things. The longer he lingered the greater the risk of discovery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...surely one more time wouldn't hurt? </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hate you lots,” Virgil assured through a yawn.</p><p>“<span>Hate you </span><b>most</b><span>,” Remus mumbled as he shoved his way under Janus' arm. </span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(Standing alone in a quiet, dark room, Janus smiled.) </span>
  </em>
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